My first splash into the coast off of Kalaupapa is disorienting. I am unable to put my finger on what feels different as I snorkel through beautiful coral heads and ancient volcanic flows. When I surface to check back on the shore, the wind echoing in my snorkel is the only sound to be heard. Eventually, I come to realize that the odd silence at the surface is because the ocean here is loud.
I dunk my head back under the water, and sure enough, a cacophony of popping, crackling, and creaks meets me. For such a slow realization, it is a pleasant surprise. I often find the ocean to be soothing because of its relative silence. Compared to the bustle of life on land, it’s a haven where everything quiets and slows (and people can’t talk to you!). Listening to the chorus of snapping shrimp, whistling dolphins, and crunching parrotfish is a gentle reminder that the ocean is also full of bustle and noise, and the silence is often a consequence of humans. Kalaupapa is renowned for its abundance of fish and marine life because of the careful stewardship of those enforcing its designation and protection as a National Historic Park.
While Kalaupapa is a refuge for marine life, it hasn’t always been for people. In the late 1800s, those with Hansen’s disease, also known as leprosy, were exiled to Kalaupapa and forbidden from leaving (NPS). Thousands of people suffered in this remote place, separated from their families and struggling to survive with little assistance before a cure was found. People like Mother Marianne from the Sisters of St. Francis and Father Damien (both now Saints), along with the support of Queen Kapiʻolani, are credited with taking care of the patients and improving their quality of life when no one else would. The story of Kalaupapa is complex, so while its designation as a National Historic Park has had tremendous benefits for its marine ecosystems, it is important not to forget why it was established in the first place, and the stories of the people who suffered and persevered here.
Those who currently reside in Kalaupapa do an amazing job of keeping the history alive. My first day, Biological Sciences Technician Glauco Antonio Puig-Santana introduces me to a group from Sustainable Coastlines Hawaii (SCH), and we visit the current Sisters to learn more about the history of Kalaupapa and the roles past Sisters and Mother Marianne played in taking care of patients. Glauco and Sisters Alicia and Barbara-Jean give me a warm welcome, answering my questions and ensuring I am informed and respectful about Kalaupapa, past and present. I only spend a short amount of time with SCH, but enjoy getting to meet such wonderful people. Even after they leave, evidence of their hard work stays in Kalaupapa. The coastline looks pristine after the countless hours they’ve spent removing marine debris, and helicopters are needed to fly out the massive bags they’ve filled with thousands of pounds of trash.
I start out the week tagging along with Glauco on some Hawaiian Monk Seal surveys. It is a real treat to get to see these endangered mammals, with a population less than 1600, happily relaxing on the beach. We identify the individuals and record their locations, staying a safe distance and noting mom and pup pairs and any obvious changes in health. They completely ignore us, preferring to sunbathe on the sand, occasionally rolling into the ocean to cool off. The thought occurs to me during surveys that I’d make an excellent monk seal.
One of the unique things about Kalaupapa’s geography is that it is entirely isolated from the “topside” of Molokai except for one very steep 3-mile trail that has an elevation gain of 1600 feet. Many in Kalaupapa opt for this butt-kicking hike to reach family or friends rather than a costlier flight that is the only motorized transportation to topside. I can confirm that you feel every foot in elevation change as you ascend, and your knees definitely feel it on the descent. What is mind-blowing to me is that almost the entire 26 switchbacks of the trail are made up of cinderblock like steps that would have had to been carried down and placed by hand. Thanks to this astonishing work, I have a great hike along the trail with amazing views of the island and the settlement of Kalaupapa.
Later in the week, we head out for some diving to finish up benthic surveys sites for the park. Petrisha Alvarez from Division(s) of Land & Natural Resources (DLNR) and Aquatic Resources (DAR), joins us from topside Molokai to be our very awesome boat operator for the day (via the steep trail, thanks Trisha!). I was warned earlier in the week that the beguiling calm seas of the West side of Kalaupapa turn into the not-so-fondly named Barf Boulevard around to the East end. Even in the relatively good conditions of our low-wind day, the swells are large, and the shoreline cliffs are continuously being swallowed by white froth. I have a newfound respect for the dedication of the people who do marine operations in Kalaupapa. The East side is no walk in the park, and it takes some serious determination and boating skills to get work done.
We hit four sites off the coastline that still need benthic surveys, and make the call to wait for safer conditions to dive the fifth, which is closest to the rocky shoreline and still getting pounded with surf. We also take water samples to be sent off for analysis. I only mess up one compass heading and break a sample syringe at depth so all in all it’s a pretty good working day if you know me.
Finishing up a day on the water in Kalaupapa is not as simple as docking the boat, unloading, and rinsing off. All I will say is that the Blue Card swim tests and skills are a piece of cake compared to the shenanigans (safe, of course) required to unload gear, rinse the boat, and secure it to a mooring buoy. I’m now convinced there should be a Kalaupapa Card swim test.
Later, we pull out backpacking gear and start running through checklists to make sure things are ready for stream surveys. In case I hadn’t already proven my adept skills during water sampling, I spill a fair amount of camp stove fuel, and we end up testing them all on the ground so I can safely get some practice before people actually need me to cook dinner.
After a week that flies by at Kaloko-Honokōhau, I’m back at Kalaupapa to join their annual stream surveying trip. I have a little free time in the office Monday, and I get to practice conducting a monk seal survey on my own. This works out great for me because I can sit and watch them as long as I want. To add to my ineffective time management, I spend half an hour watching a group of blacktip sharks cruising around the shoreline. I also quickly learn that the seals must know who Glauco is. My previous survey with him, they completely ignored us, and we could get close enough to read the tags on their flippers. Surveying by myself, well over twice the distance away than I was the last time, I quickly learn that I’m an outsider.
While I stay far enough away to not disturb them into moving, every single seal I encounter watches me with interest, very different than the laid back beach bums of the previous survey. Needless to say, getting the tag ID without bothering them was next to impossible, and I was only able to ID a few. Still, I thought it was pretty cool that they were so in tune with their surroundings to be able to differentiate between people (even if they appear to mostly be snoozing).
At one point, I encounter a very small weaned pup enjoying playing in some tide pools. I spend another thirty minutes watching it splash around and blow bubbles in the water for what appears to be its own entertainment. I can’t find the red tags on either of its flippers, but I do notice it has a unique bleach spot around its left hip area. Glauco gets very excited when I show him a picture later, and he identifies the pup as PM11 from the bleach spot. This seal pup hadn’t been spotted for a couple of weeks, which was worrisome, so it was a great feeling to know it was still alive and in the area.
Soon, it is time for the much-anticipated stream survey. Getting to hike, camp, and survey streams in the lush valley of Waikolu is a dream come true for me. It is also a surprisingly full-circle experience that I definitely did not get emotional about. I spent my childhood snorkeling in streams in Western NC, looking for crawdads, salamanders, and the elusive hellbender (fly fishers absolutely hated to see me coming). While I loved my freshwater critters, I was always dreaming of getting to see marine life and eventually “have a job outside”. The realization that I now get to do both is surreal, and it’s possible I tear up more than a few times thinking about it. I feel so privileged to have this experience, and I know that younger me would be so thrilled and proud to learn that she still gets to enjoy her favorite pastime as work!
To get to our base camp, our team has a short but slow going hike across a stretch of rocky shoreline. It’s paramount that every step on a boulder is carefully executed because it’s not the time or place to be nursing a sprained ankle, or worse. Our leads, Glauco and Anne Farahi, Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park Biological Sciences Technician, casually mention that besides the rocks, goats and other wildlife can also fall off the cliffs we walk under. For a while, I thought they were just trying to scare us into diligently wearing our hard hats for the whole hike, but upon our return hike, we stumble across two deer that had met this fate. I don’t think my hard hat would have been much help, but I’m glad we have them.
Waikolu, like the rest of the park, is stunning. Our base camp sits at the mouth of the stream, under the watchful gaze of steep mountains. I can’t even express how excited I am to unzip my tent each morning and look at the view outside, often decorated with a rainbow or two. We start each day with a safety review and briefing, and then fight Anne to make sure she doesn’t sneak all the heavy equipment in her backpack before heading out.
Our team also includes Trisha and Maria Angst from DAR, and Olivia Ponchin and Searrah Bierker, who are Scientists in Parks Interns from Volcanoes National Park. I feel a little useless when we arrive at our first site because I don’t have much field experience in any type of stream survey. However, the team is super competent, and everyone is incredibly helpful in teaching me the protocols as we work. I’m so grateful for everyone’s patience while I get to learn hīhīwai (freshwater snails) surveying protocol, water quality measurements and sampling, pebble surveying, and flow tracking. The hīhīwai surveys are easily my favorite because they are basically a treasure hunt for adorable snails within randomized 1/4 meter quadrats. I was especially enamored with them because they remind me of abalone, a marine snail I’ve spent some time with in a past internship.
The Inventory and Monitoring Division (I&M) was established out of a need for National Parks to receive standardized research, as the parks themselves are often limited to devoting their time to managing day-to-day public interactions and natural resources. This division provides the parks with science that can be used for management decisions. The stream surveys are impressive to me because they take a holistic approach to monitoring, so that data can be viewed in a way that tells the story of the stream ecosystem, not just a singular aspect. While gaining a better understanding about a particular species or physical function is great, research can often fail when it comes to painting a bigger picture. When only specific topics are focused on, it is often difficult or impossible to combine that with data from another topic in a meaningful way. This is often because data sets aren’t collected ways that are consistent with each other in terms of location, date, time of day, sampling method, etc.
I&M protocols are different and focus on collecting data in a way that can be combined into a better understanding of the big picture of an ecosystem. For Pacific Island Inventory & Monitoring Network (PACN) stream surveys, one overall survey site in Waikolu includes multiples smaller surveys from fish ID to water flow. The culmination of these “mini” surveys can be informative about that specific location or combined with the rest of the sites to tell a story about the stream as a whole. Then, entire stream systems across Hawai’i can be compared to each other because all were surveyed using these protocols. Furthermore, each protocol (fish, water quality, etc.) fits smoothly in the overall site survey, which is evident in the way different surveys can be split among teams and carried out simultaneously without getting in the way of each other. Even better, because they are all completed within the same timeframe, they are relevant to each other and have less variability.
While this may not sound the most exciting to people not interested in data collection and management, what is exciting is how it can be used. Waikolu stream has been surveyed since 2007 with these excellent, in depth protocols, and this data has been pivotal in monitoring long term stream health, providing a benchmark for other Hawaiian Streams, and justifying policy implementations to benefit the streams (DLNR). Call me a nerd, but that should be exciting to anyone.
As if we don’t spend enough time each day in the chilly stream water, Glauco takes me to get my Tahitian prawn fix after the work day is done. Non-native Tahitian prawns are destructive to the native species in these streams and, unfortunately, have been wildly successful. After these highly invasive, delicious morsels stared at me from their crevices in eddy pools all day, it’s finally time to get after them. Which… I am pretty bad at. Teeth chattering, I finally nab one with a three-prong Glauco handed me and add it victoriously to the dozen he’s already caught. I definitely injure a lot more than I actually catch, and it takes no time for other prawns to descend on their fallen comrades in a feeding frenzy. It’s a tough day to be a prawn, or maybe not, because I only catch two more, but I have an insane amount of fun and at least traumatize a fair amount.
When I say it was too soon that I had to leave, I mean it was wayyyy too soon. I had such a blast surveying with this awesome team of ladies (plus Glauco), and learned so much. Like how hīhīwai are adorable and FlowTrackers are really easy to mess up. I’m proud that I didn’t cry in front of everyone when it was time for me to hike out early with Maria, but I sure felt like it. Maria was an awesome and fun hiking buddy, and minus the dead deer and a few feral pigs we spooked off, we had an uneventful hike back to the settlement.
If anything, this internship has shown me what kind, welcoming, and extremely dedicated people work for the Park Service. After spending two days measuring pebbles in icy water, they will also spend the next five days measuring more pebbles, sleeping on the ground, and eating tamales out of pouches, all with a smile and positive attitude. I feel so privileged for the time I had with these wonderful people in such a special place. Kalaupapa definitely won me over.
